Amber glared up at the 4 men and a woman clustered around her. One was her husband, Frank, and he looked worried. She wanted to smack him. He should know what was going on, hell everyone there except him knew it. The EMTs knew it. She could see it in their eyes.
Her husband had called Julian Ambulance directly because the surrounding neighbors were used to them by now. Last week it had been for severe back pain. The week before had included 4 days of transports counting one to the doctor, a doctor who'd despaired of her health and wrote prescriptions to try to extend her useless life. Today she couldn't get off the toilet. Well not the toilet she hadn't sat on that porcelain monstrosity in over 3 years. It was her bariatric commode. She had know this day would come ever since she'd given up on loosing weight 2 years back and had watched her health get worse.
Simply she was too fat to stand up. Her body couldn't support her weight. In fact she was amazed she'd made it to the commode. She'd barely been able to take the three steps. She'd urinated and tried to pull herself up with her walker but her legs wouldn't obey. She'd waited a minute, taking deep breaths through her nasal cannula and tried again. She'd gotten her husband in and they'd tried but it was no use. So now the EMTs, all of them looked to be slightly younger then she was at 30. One of them, a sandy haired guy who needed a hair cut and a shave, crouched down to get to her eye level. "So we're going to help you stand up. Do you think you can pivot?"
Amber, still catching her breath took a deep breath in through her nasal cannula sucking oxygen through the thin plastic. "No." She said.
The EMT nodded. "Ok. We're going to stand you up, move the commode, and slide the cot behind you in it's place."
Amber didn't like that. Sitting, with her mass of flesh at rest was bad enough she didn't even want to think about getting to her feet. But she had no choice. Three of the EMTs braced themselves. One took her hands and the other two got under each arm with their gloved hands. She bit her lip and their hands dug into her overstretched sensitive skin compressing the fat of her upper arms. Frank got a hold of the commode and on a three count she tried to push off the floor. The EMTs pulled her to her feet and she stood there gasping her knees, ankles, hips, and back filled with shooting pain. She felt her nipples harden. Her knees were on the verge of giving out as the scrapping of the commode being dragged back came through and she felt the stretcher of the metal bump into the back of her thighs. She slowly collapsed backwards wheezing. Everyone took a break and then she was helped into a lying down position with her two swollen legs as close together as possible. The EMTs strapped her tightly to the cot so she didn't lean to one side. Her oxygen got switched over and she was taken outside.
One of the EMTs opened the back of the ambulance pulling out a sort of claw. It was a "powerload" which, according to the companies website, could lift a total of 700lbs. The hydraulic lift raised her inside with two EMTs helping lift, and they headed for the hospital.
Propped up in bed, her folds washed and dried, she tried not to cry. Frank was currently talking with a doctor outside and as usual she felt so guilty that she'd put him through this. Instead of living in a wonderful house on his salary he made as a lawyer they lived in a small bungalow with the living room converted to a sick room with a bariatric hospital bed, oxygen concentrator, commode, and piles of supplies with his paycheck going to the massive expense of keeping her alive.
The doctor turned leaving Frank by himself. Frank had given to doctor the impression he was a dimwitted enabler who didn't have the heart to deny his wife anything she wanted. Which was another reason he suspected the doctor was recommending this. He probably figured some separation would help Frank get out from being an enabler. Guilt knawed at him. Unknown to everyone Frank was incredibly turned on by his wife's increasing helplessness and, yes, he could admit it to himself, impending death. To Frank the unhealthier his wife was the better.
The doctor left the room and Amber lay stunned. Congestive Heart Failure? But how! It was controlled, she was taking numerous water pills, she shouldn't be having this problem. But she knew it was what the doctor had said. Her uncontrolled diet was causing liquid retention causing increased pressure on her heart and lungs and swelling in her legs. They wanted to move her to a Nursing Home for rehab. Mostly to control her diet. She hated the thought of controlled intake, no, she thought, not hated, FEARED, not getting food when she felt hungry. Nevertheless that was how it was going to be. Frank hugged her and she started crying. At age 32 all 641 pounds of her were being admitted to a nursing home.
No comments:
Post a Comment